


Back to Front

by Witchy1ness



Category: Glitch (TV 2015)
Genre: Friendship isn't easy, Gen, but it's worth it, slight warning for Kirstie's language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 05:30:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12881172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witchy1ness/pseuds/Witchy1ness
Summary: Set after "Ashes to Ashes", Kirstie wishes Charlie had kept his lips to himself.





	Back to Front

**Author's Note:**

> Glitch and all recognizable characters, settings, and related are the property of Matchbox Pictures, I'm just borrowing them :)
> 
> Written in 2017.
> 
> Reviews and constructive criticisms welcome; flames will be ignored.
> 
> Aussie slang!:
> 
> Back to Front - inside out; backwards; wrong way  
> Barmy - to go crazy  
> Dipstick - idiot (funnily enough, I've heard/used this here in Canada too, with nary an Aussie in sight!)  
> Flick - to drop someone (ie. from a relationship or friendship)

Kirstie lay in bed and cursed the ceiling.

Well, not really the ceiling _per se_ , she was using it as more of a convenient stand-in for everything that had gone tits-up since coming back to life. And there was a _lot_.

Coming back to life in the first place;

Realizing she wasn’t the only one who’d been brought back by people and purposes unknown;

Remembering being murdered;

Seeing Kev again and learning he hadn’t been the one to kill her;

The whole shit-show with Elishia;

The fact that the boundary seemed to be shrinking;

_Fucking Charlie._

She groaned and rolled over, glaring daggers at the empty bed across from her. 

He hadn’t come to bed yet; she assumed he was still hiding on the back porch. She liked Charlie, she really did; being closest to her in age they’d become pretty good friends, and shit, you only buried bodies with your best mates, right? Her grin slid off her face as she screamed into the mattress. 

_And then the bloody dipstick had to go and kiss me!_

Kirstie knew he hadn’t meant it – could recognize when someone was doing something just to run away from themselves – but all the same, anger twisted in her belly. Out of all the fucked-up shit that was going on, Charlie was the one thing – the one _person_ – she felt she could count on. And now that kiss had gone and fucked with their dynamic. 

And, apparently, her sleep schedule.

Muttering under her breath, she yanked a sheet from the bed and stomped to the back porch. Maybe staring at the stars for a little while would let her sleep. Wrapping the sheet around herself, she found Charlie right where she expected him; sitting on a wooden bench, staring moodily into the dark forest behind the house.

Shouldering open the door, she ignored him as she slouched in a nearby chair, resolutely keeping her gaze on the sliver of sky she could see between the porch roof and the treetops. 

Quiet descended again, broken only by the sound of insects and other nocturnal beasties scurrying around.

But just when Kirstie thought the uncomfortable quiet was going to smother them both Charlie spoke.

“I’m sorry.” 

She made herself turn to look at him, but Charlie was staring at his hands, head bowed like the world itself was sitting on his shoulders. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, looking up, and Kirstie swallowed hard at the redness of his eyes. 

“I had a girl, you know; before I went to fight in the war.” 

She blinked, but kept uncharacteristically quiet as the words seemed to loosen something inside him, and he kept talking, voice getting more and more strained. 

Charlie told her everything he’d remembered, even the parts she already knew. About how he’d known from a young age that he was more interested in boys than girls, but he also knew what happened to people who were that way; getting a sweetheart and promising to marry her when he got back from the war; drinking with his mates and his girl, and the fight with George, and what went on in the back room of the bar; about fighting in the war, being a sniper, and falling in love with that same George; how he had died from a shot to the head; coming home and having to hide his grief, what the war had done to him, who he was….until he ended up in the Repatriation Hospital a complete basket case. 

Kirstie hadn’t realized she’d moved until she had her arms and the sheet wrapped around Charlie, and he was holding her hard enough to hurt while he cried into her shoulder and her tears wet his hair. 

“It’s okay,” she told him hoarsely, fiercely. “You loved him, yeah? And there is _nothin'_ wrong with that, d’ya hear me? An’ he died and you came back and you went barmy but _none_ of those things are _anythin'_ to feel guilty about either, you hear me Charlie? _None of them_.” 

Charlie squeezed her once, hard, and then let go, sitting up to wipe his hands across his eyes. 

“Still shouldn’t’ve kissed you,” he rasped. 

Kirstie shrugged, unconcerned, “Stupid move, yeah, but I ain’t gonna flick ya for it. Do it again though, and I’ll knock you on your fuckin' ass, got it poofter?”

Charlie gave her a wan smile, “I still don’t know what that means.” 

She knocked her shoulder against his, “Don’t worry about it.” 

He knocked her back, smiling, and then carefully lifted a nearby settee and dragged it close enough they could prop their feet on it. 

Kirstie shook out the sheet so that it covered both their laps, and settled against his side as they contemplated the trees together. 

She was still kind of mad at him, but that was okay.

When Kate found them the next morning, she took pictures.

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently attempting NaNoWriMo for the first time wasn't enough for my brain, and it actually came up with this in week two, haha.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed :)


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